but the melody lingers
by yayfornonsense
Summary: mid-PPP, the goodbye Blaine and the Warblers never had.


_reviews are love._

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><p>It's David, ever the perceptive one, who speaks when they've finally assembled. After Jeff and Nick have arrived, looking suspiciously rumpled, and Wes has stopped ranting about demerits and the nuisance of latecomers, after Trent has retrieved the gavel (which had mysteriously disappeared hours before) and laid it (somewhat mockingly) in front of the Senior Council. David, who had remained quiet for the several long minutes before the emergency meeting started, doesn't need a long speech to know the truth.<p>

"You're leaving, aren't you?"

And really, Blaine is glad that his friend has taken the words right out of his mouth. Because standing before these guys, knowing everything that they've done for him, it's a little like seeing his life flash before his eyes. Without them, he wouldn't be the confident, out-and-proud, dapper young man that he is today. Watching them, the courage throbs in his chest and it's suddenly more _real_, more tangible than it's ever been. (Because, despite what he tells Kurt, courage has never been easy for him to come by.) And it's a little heartbreaking, because they're the reason he's leaving. They're also the reason he wants so desperately to stay.

Apparently, his eyes have given an answer even with the words stuck in his throat. The expression on every boyish face has rapidly become very serious. Even the new freshman kid, Alex something, has solemn eyes and a down-turned mouth, and for Blaine it's like looking into a mirror and seeing the past. Images flicker and burn behind his eyelids; hot reds and deep purples and the white flash of pain and humiliation, and he internally cringes. That's what he's headed for. He loves Kurt, he really does, but sometimes he can't help but contemplate his own blind stupidity. Because, really? Trade Dalton, with its safe, solid walls, its prestigious, ivy-league material courses, and its zero-tolerance bullying policy? Leave behind the comfort of a secure social status for the comfort of his boyfriend's arms?

But that's what this is all about, in the end. Because, despite everything Dalton has to offer, despite the friends he's leaving behind, it all comes down to Kurt. Kurt, whom he loves, _cherishes_, thinks and dreams and breathes about every single day. Kurt, for whom he would do absolutely anything.

It eases the knots in his chest a bit as he nods, hands in his pockets. "I'm transferring to McKinley. To be with Kurt," he clarifies, which is probably pretty unnecessary, but it's a reminder to himself too.

"We'll miss you," Wes says simply. No, aren't you sure you wouldn't like to stay, Blaine? No, we need you, Blaine! And for that, Blaine thinks he might be grateful, even if it tastes bitter going down. Because, yeah, he thinks. They will miss him. He'll miss them. This is his _family_, really. They took him in when he was just a beaten, bruised kid running from his past and his identity. He's become a new person in front of their very eyes; become their leader in so many senses of the word. He nods, worries his bottom lip, tries to ignore the tears that are curling in a painful ball somewhere between his heart and his throat.

"I'll miss you guys, too," he responds, voice raspy, and the Warblers _know_, so they don't say anything else. The meeting moves on to sectionals and arguments about red blazers, and if Jeff can't quite manage to meet Blaine's eyes, or Wes's monologues are a little half-hearted, no one mentions it.

There are pats on the back that he's barely aware of, a few murmured words, and thus concludes Blaine's final Warbler practice. He remains even after everyone else has gone, eyes tracing the lines of the familiar room, trying to memorize every last piece. He fingers the gavel and plunks a few notes out on the piano, and then his eyes fall on the empty bird cage in the corner of the room. No one had had the heart to get a new bird just yet, because they had all loved Pavarotti. Though, Blaine admits to himself as he traces the bars of the cage with his index finger, no one had loved him as much as Kurt.

And there's a new rush of memories as he thinks of his boyfriend and Beatles songs and a tentative, shy kiss as the sun sunk past the window.

He walks, away or forward, he's not sure. Maybe both. But he's humming Blackbird and thinking of hope.

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><p><em>Being strong sometimes means being able to let go.<em>

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><p>He's standing just outside the obnoxious red doors, kids milling around him in a rush, already weary of the monotonous routine after a few short days. Blaine swallows, wipes his sweaty palms on his pants, and tries to remember the last time he felt this nervous. His imagination is running wild with horror stories, and he doesn't think even a smile from Kurt could calm him down at this point.<p>

Just then, his phone buzzes shrilly with an incoming text. Pulling it out, he barely has time to acknowledge what it says before his phone is buzzing again. It doesn't stop for quite some time, and by the time it does, Blaine is inside, sauntering down the hallway with a new burst of confidence. Each message covers him like a blanket, like a pat on the back, like a Warbler with a boyish face, doo-wopping behind him reassuringly, ready to catch him should he fall.

And that's it, Blaine realizes as he rounds the corner. The messages are just a new translation of something the Warblers have been saying all along. Every harmony, every dance step that has led him to victory; it's his own mantra, thrown back in his face in the most pleasant of ways.

_Courage_, they sing, over and over and over.


End file.
